


3:55

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, this is weird and ambiguous bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:32:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7254349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes are something strange, almost of… desperation as he looks down at her. Like he’s known her for a thousand years. Dana shifts her weight uncomfortably. The man clears his throat, and says, “Yeah, uh, don’t take you new assignment.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	3:55

**Author's Note:**

> yeah um this has probably been done a thousand times but the idea was really interesting to me so i decided to take a crack at it. i used netflix and the deleted pilot quantico scene as a source. original post: http://how-i-met-your-mulder.tumblr.com/post/146086031183/x-files-fic-355

She subconsciously checks her watch as she passes through the office. The meeting is at 4:00; it’s 3:55. She’s strangely nervous, although she shouldn’t be. Dana hoists her bag up on her shoulder, and offers a smile to the agents in the room. She wonders, not for the first time, about her new assignment. Teaching at Quantico was routine - too routine. She is ready for a challenge.

Dana turns down a lonelier hallway, passing a few more people. A lone man stands near the end of the hall, staring at the ground. As she passes him, she starts a nod of acknowledgement, but he reaches out, his hand brushing her elbow briefly. “Agent Scully?” he says. “A word?”

She checks; there’s an FBI badge clipped to his suit. As if there wouldn’t be - they are deep into the Hoover building. She steps to the side to face him. He’s tall, lanky with a shock of dark hair; she has to tip her head back to look at him. “Can I help you?” she says, giving him a polite smile.

His eyes are something strange, almost of… desperation as he looks down at her. Like he’s known her for a thousand years. Dana shifts her weight uncomfortably. The man clears his throat, and says, “Yeah, uh, don’t take you new assignment.”

She blinks. “How did you…”

“I just do,” he says. “Section Chief Blevins? But there’ll be another man in there, with a cigarette. Always the goddamn cigarettes.” He laughs bitterly, runs a hand over his mouth in a swiping motion. “You’ll be reassigned to an outcast division under AD Skinner. The ‘FBI’s most unwanted’ unit.” He says the phrase like she should recognize it, air quotes for emphasis. “I’m telling you now - don’t take it.”

Dana ducks her head to read his badge, but his hand is blocking. “Sir, I don’t know how you-” she begins firmly.

The man laughs again, and it’s almost a sad laugh, a bitter laugh. “Sir,” he says quietly, with something like surprise. “Listen, Sc- Agent Scully, trust me-” (He blinks hard, like the words have an impact.) “-you don’t want to take this assignment. It will turn out to be very dangerous and devastating for you.”

Dana shifts her stance again, searching for an authoritative one. “If you’re threatening me,” she starts, ready to throw her voice louder to catch the attention of the other agents.

His eyes widen, shattered. “No, _god_ no,” he says. “I want to _save_ you.”

“Save me from what?” Dana demands, crossing her arms. Her briefcase slides down her arm, but she ignores it. “No one knows the future.”

“I do,” he says. He’s haunted, like her father’s Navy buddies, victims she has interviewed on the jobs, the eyes you see in a longtime medical patient or someone who has been at a traumatic job for a very long time. And he’s looking at her like she’s everything, something she’s only ever seen between her father and her mother. It makes her both uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time; it sends some strange sensation down her spine. She isn’t scared of him… but at the same time, she is. (She doesn’t think he wants to harm her, though. It doesn’t seem that way.) “Quit the Bureau if that’s what it takes,” he says. “Do whatever you have to, just please, _please_ don’t go work on the X Files division.”

The X Files division? The unexplained phenomena that everyone jokes about, no one really takes seriously? This is what her employers think of her? No, she can’t buy into the ramblings of some strange man in the hallway. Too bad they don’t prepare you for this at the Academy, because it would be nice to have a unit on Lunatics Who Claim To Know The Future. Dana clears her throat, ready to be done with this charade. “Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

The man smiles some quick, small smile, almost of recognition. He reaches for her elbow again, fingers brushing down the plaid-covered surface of her arm until they reach her hand; Dana prepares herself to throw him off, but he only squeezes briefly before stepping back. His hands are warm.

“Bye, Scully,” he says, like he’s not sure whether she’ll bother to listen or not, like she is familiar to him. She isn’t used to hearing just her last name, without an Agent or Doctor or - god forbid - Miss accompanying it. But there is something strange in the way he says it. He brushes past her as he heads back down the hall. She watches him go - he doesn’t look back.

Dana checks her watch. Damn - almost 4:05. She walks down the remainder of the hall briskly, trying to shake the strange encounter from her mind. She’ll probably report it later. She knocks on the door, and waits for the customary, “Come in.”

The man behind the desk waits a full eight seconds before looking up and saying, “Agent Scully, thank you for coming on such short notice.” He doesn’t mention the fact that she is late, and she is relieved. She sits before she sees him - the man smoking in the corner of the room. A chill runs up her spine, and she pushes away thoughts of _he was right_. 

They discuss her career at the Bureau, but Dana’s mind keeps turning back to the scene in the hallway. _Well, he must have just come from here_ , she tells herself rationally. _To know… but…_ Her hand grasps the edge of the desk, and she reminds herself that she doesn’t believe in things like knowing the future.

“Agent Scully?” says the man next to the desk to get her attention. The smoking man takes a drag on his cigarette. 

“Yes, sir?” she says, shaking herself back to attention. _Forget about it_ , she tells herself firmly. 

“Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?”


End file.
